Metal Gear Solid: Peace Reaper
by CB042
Summary: The year is 1989, Outer Heaven has secured territory in northern South Africa and begun making a name for itself worldwide as a powerhouse home to the worlds greatest soldiers. Big Boss is embedded in FOXHOUND, Venom Snake leads the soldiers to countless victories, all is going according to plan. Until a patrol goes missing, and the lone survivor returns, warning of a demon in red.
1. Anger

Before we start, here's the obligatory disclaimer. I don't own MGS, Konami does (regrettably, #fuckkonami), and they own all associated characters and so on. Anyway, this is my second attempt at doing a fic, so please give me a review on what I've got so far if you'd be so kind. I wrote this because I saw some concept art, and it spurred the idea to life in my head, I'm sure you know the art of which I speak, I also figured I might fill in some plot details here and there. Anyway, kept you waiting long enough.

 _ **ANGER**_

 _is a killing thing:_

 _it kills the man who angers,_

 _for each rage leaves him less than he had been before_

 _\- it takes something from him._

 **2300 Hours, September 5** **th** **, 1989 | 85 Kilometers North of Galzburg, South Africa**

"Pass me a light would you?" Palitz's voice called out, echoing across the quiet African night.

Benito Graciani, known as Fearsome Eagle these days as pretentious as it sounded, looked over his shoulder to the aging sniper strolling next to him along the dirt path. Letting out a sigh, the mercenary dug into his pocket, taking a hand away from the AK-74U slung across his chest, searching for his lighter between the spare magazines.

He'd grown used to the routine, he'd been on more long distance patrols with the American then he cared to remember in the past three years, every time he'd asked Benito for a light, and every time he'd spent a good minute and a half looking for it. "You've really got to start putting it somewhere more convenient kid." Palitz said with a sigh, faintly smirking as his heavy gaze remained affixed on the younger soldier of Outer Heaven.

"Maybe, or you could get your own damn lighter." Graciani shot back in jest as his fingers found purchase and brought the lighter to bear. Tossing the zippo to Palitz, the El Salvadorian shook his head as the two, alongside a good thirty others in addition to two APCs moved along the seemingly endless dirt road under the clear night sky.

Despite what the grumbles and moans that came from any soldier assigned to the dreaded patrols which promised nothing more than boredom and blisters, there was something about them that was almost therapeutic. In the ages before modern transport, soldiers would walk thousands of miles to and from their battlefields, and dying en route to their destination aside, there was something that felt almost right about it. The long treks with nothing but one's thoughts and one's brothers and sisters gave them time to reflect, to process, to heal so they could fight again, and all with those who would support them most by their side.

The patrols didn't erase the damage one had suffered, but it made it manageable for many of them. It helped him process the things he'd done at an age where war should've been the farthest thing from a concern, and he was sure it helped Palitz sleep easier. The man never told him the specifics of what he'd done, but plenty of dark myths surrounded his and his spotter's time in Laos, not to mention the camp where Boss had chosen to bring them in, rather than kill them on the spot like he'd been contracted to do.

Cigarette now alight, Palitz offered the lighter back to Benito, who took it with a nod and stuffed it back into the pocket from whence it came. "Thanks Eagle." The sniper said gruffly as he blew smoke outwards in the cold night air.

"I heard the Boss might have a big assignment coming up, probably gonna require a lot of manpower." Came a voice from the soldier trotting along behind the two, Callous Aardvark. The burly Polack had been fultoned out of San Salvador's suburbs the same day in '84 as he had, the key difference being that they had been on opposite sides, not that it mattered anymore, the two had become friends over the years as was the way of things in Outer Heaven. Old flags didn't matter, just each other, and their shared dream.

Still, talk of something big would be an interesting change of pace from the occasional joke and constant growl of the APCs. "Is that right?" Palitz questioned, raising a grey eyebrow as he took another drag from the glowing cigarette, turning his head to Aardvark expectantly.

Nodding intently, Callous flashed a wide grin and placed both hands on the back of his head, proud to be sitting on such an interesting bit of information. Every member of the patrol in earshot had their gaze locked on him, eagerly awaiting his revelation. "Girl I'm seeing is in intel, says the we've got a contract offer from the western Sahara." Aardvark mused.

It wouldn't have been the first time many of them had followed Big Boss into the area, back when they were still called Diamond Dogs Palitz and Aardvark both had been on the ground there, but Eagle had been too young at the time. Not to mention that the job then had less to do with the regional conflict and more to do with an XOF presence, it had been personal, not business, so this would be different and hopefully less costly.

Palitz had lost his longtime spotter and friend Glaz among others, the only other person who could truly understand the agony wrought by the things Palitz had done because he'd done them right alongside him.

The old American had always been kind to Benito, but he'd been distant for months after he returned from that. It was no surprise to Benito when a worried look spread across the marksman's aging face, his comrade's ghost haunting his mind.

"Who's hiring, SADR or the Moroccans?" Questioned one of the soldiers from where she sat atop one of the APCs. Eagle didn't recognize the girl, she was new, either to this patrol group or to Outer Heaven in general, but she was quick to ask the important question.

"Yeah, and what woman in their right mind would be seeing you?"

Then there was Flustered Hornet, with questions of the decidedly unimportant variety.

Before a Aardvark could shoot off a comeback or an answer, the radios hanging off all their uniforms crackled to life. "Contact right, moving fast!" The voice belonged to the man on point, Raging Tiger, and in an instant the group, infantry and armor alike, came to a sudden halt.

Questions raced through Benito's mind; Who would possibly be all the way out here? What could warrant such a panicked reaction from a hardened veteran like Tiger? As a soldier however, he knew better than to ask questions in the heat of the moment, they all knew.

Benitio's hands found the carbine and snapped it upwards while he dropped into a crouch. He would've pulled down the heavy night-vision goggles atop his head, but he didn't need them to make out the figure rushing towards them, dust flying up in its wake. It was too small to be a vehicle, yet too fast not to be, all but a select few of the soldiers around him had the slightest clue what it could be.

When the thing suddenly leapt high into the air, those few's worst fears were confirmed.

"Open fire!" Palitz screamed. Benito didn't question it, his finger squeezed down and the weapon kicked back against his shoulder in response, joining the others in lighting up the night sky with muzzle flashes and sending lead screaming upwards. Yet the thing did not seem to flinch, instead it seemingly hung in the air long enough for the turrets of the APCs to turn upwards to face it before it came down, hard.

The thing shot downward so quickly that Benito didn't have time to even shift his aim, not until after a decisive _thud_ from in front of the first APC. Pivoting hard towards the sound, he couldn't see a thing, but he could hear enough. Screams cut through the air before quickly going silent, and then the sound of metal straining.

Suddenly, the APC before him was lifting upwards, and he froze. The hulking vehicle raised up farther and farther until it sat vertically for the briefest moment, then fell down towards them. Benito was frozen, thankfully Palitz was not.

The American barreled into his side, tackling him out of the way and into a nearby ditch as the personnel carrier fell towards them. Whatever was attacking them forced it down with enough force for the turret to cave inward, something inside detonating and sending a wave of heat washing over him and a storm of shrapnel in every which way.

"Get up, get up!" Palitz barked, scrambling to his feet and raising up his rifle. Without pause Benito did the same, finding his footing in the ditch and searching desperately for the attacker. He heard screams as the unknown entity slammed against the second APC, crushing the new girl in between himself and the armor plating, as well as killing anyone to the right of the vehicle as was rammed into a sudden ninety degree turn and subsequently rolled onto its side.

Benito and Palitz joined the others in firing on the strange and ruthless thing, but to seemingly little effect. In a blur of motion he watched the assailant, clad in red from what he could see, fling a tomahawk from one hand into a soldier, her chest caving inward with the force.

Letting off another burst of lead his shots harmlessly plinked off the underside of the APC as the figure darted away, yanking its axe from the woman's chest and barreling into another soldier. Before Benito could fire Palitz grabbed him by the shoulder, and looked him dead in the eyes. "Run." He ordered.

Benito opened his mouth to protest, but Plaitz's eyes made it clear there would be no debate. Hands leaving his weapon, the carbine fell slack in its sling as he turned and ran. Even as he bolted through the brush he saw something extend from the attackers arm, some kind of rope which buried into another soldier, and promptly tore out his throat when the figure jerked his arm back.

Screams and gunfire filled the air as he ran, drowning out his own ragged breathing as he sprinted as quickly as he could up a nearby hill, until something caught his foot. Tumbling forward onto the ground, fear filled his mind as he quickly dragged himself into nearby bushes, peering back at the decimated patrol.

To Benito's horror, he only two things left alive, the thing in red, and Palitz. To Benito's surprise his friend did not have his weapon raised, instead he almost seemed to be speaking to the thing. Whatever it was, had its back to Palitz, and instead, was looking directly at him.

His heart dropped, and his stomach turned as for what felt like eternity, it simply stood there looking towards him, the flames casting just enough light to make out its tattered, crimson garb. He could tell it was at least humanoid now that it was standing still, while Palitz yelled words he could not decipher.

Death was imminent, he knew it, any second now the thing would leap to him and cut him apart. Benito's eyes refused to open as fear overtook him. This was his end, he knew that, and instead of more fear he found courage. He would not die in the streets for a revolution he did not understand, he would die a soldier of Outer Heaven, and that meant he would not go quietly.

Eyes shooting open he rose into a crouch and snapped his weapon to bear, ready to meet his maker. Yet to his shock, the figure had not come for him, instead it had Palitz in the air by his throat with one hand, and a long machete in the other.

In the flickering light of one of the APC's flames, he could see the figure more clearly than ever, it wore some sort of parka, a hood of some sort draped over its head, something crudely painted in white on its back, though he couldn't tell what from this angle. Palitz still desperately was trying to speak to it, nodding feverishly after he assumed it spoke back, then appeared to mutter something quietly to himself, a final prayer.

Benito's resurgent bravery evaporated as his friend and mentor's scream cut through the brief silence, the machete burying into his stomach again and again and again, each time tearing open more and more until he fell silent, his mangled entrails spilling out onto the blood soaked dirt.

The figure dropped his friend's lifeless corpse to the ground, and Benito found himself frozen in absolute terror. The figure stepped away, turning his back fully to where the young soldier was watching, and jumped away into the night.

For what felt like an eternity, he waited, expecting it to come screaming down from the sky onto him, pulverizing him into a bloody mess, but nothing came. When he finally willed himself to move, Benito realized what the crude painting on the attacker's back had been, the last thing he'd been able to see, a symbol for everything this monster was not.

Peace.


	2. Agony

So, this'll be a tad shorter than the first, but in case there was any confusion this will clear up who the red dude is. Please, pour on the feedback, I'd love to know what people think of this so far.

 _Here's to you, Nicola and Bart_

 _Rest forever here in our hearts_

 _The last and final moment is yours_

 _That_

 _ **AGONY**_

 _Is your_

 _Triumph_

 **0132 Hours, September 6th, 1989 | 50 Kilometers South of Outer Heaven**

He'd been there, all those years ago. Maybe he hadn't helped, but he didn't do anything to stop it, that was sin enough. For that he had to suffer, he had to scream like she had. No, nothing he could do could make them scream like she had.

Nothing he could make himself do, not in her name.

He moved slowly now, barely hobbling along through the tall grass of the savannah, his hands brushing against the tips as he went. In his ears he heard his heart, steadily beating, a soft reminder that he was here.

Or perhaps it was a taunt to remind him she wasn't. But that was wrong, he carried her on his back and in his heart everywhere he went, every step he made she made with him, clinging to his soul.

Through the scalpels and the pain, through the injections, the beatings, the electrocution, the things they shoved inside him and worse she still clung to him, he had not saved her, and she had not saved him, but there had been some comfort in having the other there.

They'd hollowed him out, tried to fill him with their own thoughts their own agenda, make him into their hunter, shape him in their image. But they failed, she filled every incision, every bit they tore out she filled back in, she loved him so deeply that his body would heal and grow strong, the scientists would cheer that their experiments had been a success but it was not so, he was of her making not theirs.

The broken child had grown into a man on their tables, in their cells, through their torture which he could no longer be sure what was for science and what was for fun. But she whispered to him through it all, between the panicked heartbeats he still heard her voice.

He had died a thousand times, drowned, burned, shot and stabbed, taken apart and put back together until pain became peace, and he its instrument. She would have wanted that, he could tell she was pleased, in the scarce times he slept he re-lived her kiss between the nightmares. She loved him, she still did, and he loved her.

He had always loved her.

When they thought they had finished his creation they dropped him into the jungles to be their own _chupacabra_ , but he was not, no he was something different, a monster like no other before him.

 _Monstruo De Paz_.

Still, he only ran after he hunted, for all their failings to make him theirs they had opened his eyes to the sins of his former family. They were as responsible for the prevention of peace as the ones who made him, they spit on her in equal measure.

"You have to stop them, _mi amor_ , you have to destroy them." She whispered between the thumps of his heart.

He let out a weak guttural noise in response as he continued through the grass, a soft rain beginning to fall, droplets streaming down the tattered parka. Finding the nearest tree he sat back against it, gathering his strength, he would need it for what was to come.

The blade of his machete bit into the soil, burying deep enough to keep itself upright while he leaned back. Flecks of blood had dried on its length, but he couldn't be bothered to clean it, instead he drew back the hood of the parka and leaned back. The increasingly heavy rain wetting his matted hair, rolling down his scarred visage and his ghastly maw.

Only she could see him as he was and still love him. He was truly monstrous, befitting of his name new name.

He still had his reservations about all he was being asked to do, she demanded so much of him, stoked his anger into an uncontrollable fury, but it was out of love. It was all out of love. Big Boss and his Outer Heaven could never be his home or his family again, only his enemy, they didn't love him how she did, she reminded him of that often in hushed words.

She guided him, onward, first Boss, then Zero, Skull Face was already long dead. With them gone the world would know peace, she insisted, all he had to do was destroy them, and she had given him the strength to do so.

Through him she would bring peace to the world, through her _Monstruo_ , her Chico.


End file.
